


till this moment i never knew myself

by indragram



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Slow Burn, in which lexa wears a lot of suits and is also a bit of a twat, papau, pride and prejudice au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6383551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indragram/pseuds/indragram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The greatest misfortune of all would be to be liked by Ms Woods."</p><p>Or the Griffin sisters and their pursuit of partners </p><p>(Pride and Prejudice au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i low-key started planning this a year ago, but i finally got around to starting it. this first chapter is kind of set up, and i cut it off here so that i could test the waters a bit, bc the narrative is kinda different to norm.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that anyone in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

 

Whether or not the person knows about this upon entering a neighbourhood has always been irrelevant, as it has been so long fixed in the minds of the families, that it has long since been considered law.  

 

And so, of course, when Mrs. Griffin discovered that Tondc Park had at last been let out, she considered it her duty to inform her family of the development, that they might quickly make the necessary preparations. Similarly to every other mother in the neighbourhood, Mrs Griffin had decided that the new inhabitant of Tondc Park was the rightful property of one of her daughters.

 

However, knowing the attachment her husband and daughters shared, she decided to broach the topic gently.

 

“Have you heard, my dear husband,” She begins, glancing over at him from her armchair in front of the bay windows, “That Tondc Park is let at last?”

 

Mr Griffin replied that he had not.

 

Putting her book down on her lap, Mrs Griffin turned to face him, “But it’s true,” She insisted, “For Mr and Mrs Jackson invited me over for lunch, and they told me all about it.”

 

Mr Griffin hummed, not glancing up from his newspaper.

 

Mrs Griffin quickly grew impatient, “Well?”

 

Sighing, her husband folded his newspaper, placing it down on the desk in front of him. “Yes, dear?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know who’s taken it?”

 

Mr Griffin shifted, running a hand through his hair, before acquiescing, “You wish to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.”

 

This was invitation enough.

 

“My dear, it’s been taken by a man from the north country,” She smiled, folding her hands in her lap, “And the Jacksons say that he is a man of considerable fortune. Indeed, he arrived last week in a carriage drawn by four horses - Miss Jaha told Mrs Jackson that they were some of the finest horses she has seen - and apparently he was so taken by the house that he agreed to take it immediately; the deeds were signed, and Mr Jackson thinks that he will have moved in before Michaelmas!” She cried excitedly, thinking of what good it would do for her heart if she could see at least _one_ of her daughters married comfortably.

 

 _More_ than comfortably, she corrected herself, thinking on the grandeur of Tondc Park.

 

“What is his name?” Mr Griffin asked, at length.

 

“Lincoln.”

 

Mr Griffin nodded, “And is Mr Lincoln married or single?”

 

“Oh, single to be sure, my dear.” Mrs Griffin smiled, “A single man of a _large_ fortune; the Jacksons tell me it is four or five thousand a year! What a fine thing for our girls, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

“How so?” Mr Griffin furrowed his brow, “How can it affect them?”

 

“Oh Mr Griffin!” She exclaimed, “You must know I am thinking of his marrying one of them.”

 

“You consider that his design in settling here?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear husband,” She responded, happily, “But you must know that it is quite likely that he should fall in love with one of them, so you must go and see him as soon as he arrives.”

 

“Perhaps it would be best that I send the girls instead,” He suggested, “So that he may fall in love with them as soon as possible. Would you like to accompany them?”

 

“How can you be so tiresome at a time such as this? Surely you understand that you must go?”

 

“You’re absolutely right, I am being ridiculous. If you were to accompany the girls then Mr Lincoln would most certainly fall in love with you, and I would be left with three daughters and no wife to find eligible suitors for them to marry.”

 

“My dear, you flatter me, but with two grown daughters of my own, I can hardly think myself the beauty I once was.”

 

“When a woman cannot think of her own beauty, it becomes the duty of the husband to do so for her.”

 

Mrs Griffin swallowed, fighting the blush that rose in her cheeks, “My dear, do you not wish to find such a man for your daughters? You must indeed go to Tondc Park and visit Mr Lincoln as soon as he comes to the neighbourhood. Consider what good a connection such as this could do for our dear daughters, for it would surely be impossible for our daughters to visit him if you do not go first and make the necessary introductions.”

 

“My dear you are thinking too much. If he is indeed the gentleman you consider him to be, then he will be as courteous to you as he would be to me. In any case, if he is not, then he is surely not the sort of man to whom I would bequeath any of my daughters.” He replied, “If it would ease your nerves, I could write him a letter assuring him of my consent to him marrying any of my beautiful children; though I must throw in a good word for my dear Clarke.”

 

“I desire you would not, for I am certain she is not to be held in higher esteem than our other daughters; she has not the beauty of Octavia, nor is she half so good humoured as Raven, who is ours by name if not by blood.”

 

“The others are too frivolous.” Mr Griffin declared, “If he is as gentlemanly as you would have me believe, he should need a wife of an equal disposition, that she might not embarrass him in front of his peers by being overly excitable. Thus I must endeavour to recommend Clarke over her sisters, if only for her peaceful manner.”

 

“Mr Griffin, how can you abuse your own children in such a way?”

 

Her husband did not respond, but his lips quirked slightly as he turned back to his newspaper.

 

//

 

“My dear,” Mr Griffin began, a little while later, his voice soft in the thick tension of the room, “I am sure we will live to see many young men of such a fortune move to the neighbourhood.”

 

His wife huffed, “It would make no difference if twenty such men came, since you will not visit them.”

 

“When there are twenty,” He smiled, folding his newspaper before standing, his chair scraping slightly against the wooden floor of the room, “I promise you I will visit them all.”

 

//

 

Mr Griffin was, of course, one of the first gentlemen of the neighbourhood to visit the new inhabitants of Tondc Park.

 

He neglected to mention this to his wife, and she spent the week of Mr Lincoln’s arrival sulking about the house, dividing her time equally between complaining quietly whilst she paced, and complaining loudly as she sat in her armchair by the bay windows.

 

The girls took to spending as much time as possible outside of the house, often taking the time to walk down to the village, and Mr Griffin spent much of the week in his study, the door closed as he poured over his accounts for hours upon end.

 

Indeed, during this particular week, it seemed as though the only time the family was all together in the same place was at dinner time, and it was during one of these dinners, that Octavia brought up the topic of the upcoming ball.

 

Mrs Griffin grumbled as she poured a small amount of gravy onto her plate. “The Jackson’s tell me that Mr Lincoln will be attending,” She began, “Not that it matters, as we are not known to him.”

 

“Mr Jaha has promised to introduce us to him.” Clarke reminded her mother, gently.

 

Mrs Griffin scoffs, “He will do no such thing. Do you forget that he has a niece of his own? He will certainly push them together, and they will marry, for she will be the most eligible gentlewoman known to him.”

 

“What about Mr and Mrs Jackson?” Octavia suggests.

 

“They have been out of town this past week, by Mount Weather. They won’t return until the day before the ball.”

 

Clarke and Octavia turned to look at Raven, willing her to say something of some comfort to their mother, but she said nothing. Instead, it was Mr Griffin who broke the silence, “Then you, my dear, may have the pleasure of introducing the Jacksons to Mr Lincoln yourself.” He told his wife, a grin fixed to his lips as he spooned several roast potatoes onto his plate.

 

“You take delight in vexing me!” She exclaimed, indignantly, “It would be impossible for me to make the introductions when I am not acquainted with him myself.”

 

“But mama-”

 

“Enough. I am sick of Mr Lincoln.”

 

“Why did you not tell me so earlier?” Mr Griffin replied, brows furrowed as he put his cutlery down, “If I had known then I would never have gone to introduce myself; we can hardly escape the acquaintance now that I have visited.”

 

Mrs Griffin seemed to quickly recover from her dislike of the gentleman, and the remainder of dinner was spent speculating on how soon Mr Lincoln would deign to return Mr Griffin’s visit, and whether or not they should invite him around for dinner.

 

She was not able to get as much information out of her husband as she perhaps would have liked, but he assured her that the Mr Lincoln would be attending the ball, and that the gentleman had professed himself to be fond of dancing.

 

Mrs Griffin was satisfied by this, for a fond dancer would certainly wish to dance with her daughters, and this would doubtless lead to him falling in love with one of them.

 

Within a few days Mr Lincoln visited the house, and he spent some time in the library with Mr Griffin; the gentleman had hoped that he would be introduced to the young ladies of the house, having heard much of their beauty, but he only saw the father.

 

The daughters, perched by the upstairs windows, admired his dark suit and fast horse.

 

The day of the ball approached rapidly, and as time passed, Mrs Griffin’s excitement grew. When Mr Lincoln declined their invitation to dinner, explaining that he had to travel into town for the next few days, she was worried that he would not settle permanently in the neighbourhood as he ought to. She was quickly reassured, however, when Octavia passed on the news that he was simply collecting a large party to bring with him to the ball.

 

The initial figure stood somewhere around twenty, with twelve or thirteen ladies and seven or eight gentlemen; no one seemed to be sure of the exact figure, but the worry of there being too many ladies seemed consistent. On the day of the ball, this number had dropped to only five or six women, one of whom was believed to be his cousin, but by the time Mr Lincoln actually arrived, he was accompanied by just two women and no men.

 

One was around his height, and her red dress flowed gracefully to the floor, hanging perfectly on her light frame. Her features were sharp, and her dark hair mostly loose, held behind her shoulders by a series of intricate braids. She was introduced as Miss Anya, the sister of Mr Lincoln.

 

On the other side of Miss Anya, stood Ms Lexa Woods. She was shorter than her companions, clad in a dark, clearly well-tailored suit, and she caught the attention of the room immediately. Word was quickly spread throughout the ballroom that Ms Woods of Polis House earned at least ten thousand a year, and she was rumoured to own over half of the north country. Her immense wealth gained her popularity quickly; the gentlemen proclaimed her to be a fine sort of person, many of the women decided that she was much handsomer than Mr Lincoln, and she was admired from a distance for much of the evening, until her manner was discovered to be abhorrent.

 

It was decided that all the wealth in the world could not make her more attractive than Mr Lincoln, and no one could understand why a man so kind as he would be acquainted with someone who lacked even the most basic form of social etiquette.

 

//

 

“He danced all night,” Mrs Griffin explained to her husband excitedly, “He danced with all three of our girls, and _twice_ with our dear Octavia!”

 

“All night?” Mr Griffin replied, distractedly, “It’s a wonder his feet didn’t get tired.”

 

Mrs Griffin elected to ignore his lacklustre response, “He was with his sister, Miss Anya - her dress was gorgeous. Mr Lincoln imports dresses for her from France! Isn’t that _wonderful_? - and a Ms Woods,” Here, her tone dropped to a darker, unhappy sort of tone, “But she considered herself to be above our society, so spent the night ignoring us all, despite the fact that there were many ladies without partners.”

 

Mr Griffin did not respond verbally, merely nodded, his focus trained on the papers on his desk.

 

“I tell you, the woman makes almost ten thousand a year, but she doesn’t appear to possess an ounce of social grace or kindness. Even if she does earn twice as much as Mr Lincoln, he is _ten times_ the gentleman she will ever be.” She said, decisively.

 

“Quite right.” Mr Griffin mumbled.

 

Mrs Griffin was frustrated at his lack of response, and so decided to mention something she was sure would grab her husband’s attention, “Mrs Jackson says she even heard Ms Woods insult our dear Clarke.”

 

Mr Griffin put his pen down, finally turning to allow his wife his full attention, “What did she say about Clarke?”

 

His wife smiled indulgently at having finally interested him with the events of the evening, before explaining, “Mr Lincoln suggested that she dance with Clarke, but Ms Woods refused, and said that our Clarke isn’t handsome enough to ‘tempt’ her.” Mrs Griffin huffed, shaking her head, “The only person she danced with all night was Mr Lincoln’s sister, and that was but once or twice.”

 

//

 

Upstairs, Octavia was flat on her back on her bed, smiling at the ceiling. After a moment, she turned to look at her sisters, “He danced with me twice!” She told them, happily, before turning back towards the ceiling, her hands coming up to fiddle with the ends of her hair.

 

Clarke laughed, “Yes, O, he certainly seemed quite taken with you.”

 

“You really think so?” The girl flipped back onto her side, staring excitedly at the other two girls.

 

“Absolutely, O,” Raven grinned, leaning back in her chair, “He’ll probably be around tomorrow morning to ask father for your hand in marriage.”

 

Octavia’s heart jumped at the suggestion, and her stomach trembled, shifting about inside of her like earth under the hooves of Mr Lincoln’s horse, “Shut up, Rae.”

 

“Look-” Raven broke off, laughing, “Look at her cheeks! They’re the same colour as Miss Anya’s dress - you’re even coordinating with his sister!”

 

Octavia groaned, pulling her pillow out from under her head and using it to cover her face.

 

After Raven’s laughter had calmed, Clarke moved to sit on the edge of the bed by Octavia, smiling softly at her sister, “I _do_ like him for you, O. I think he could be good for you.”

 

“Good for you _five thousand_ times a year, I should think.” Raven added helpfully, moving to the other side of the prone brunette.

 

Clarke grinned, “Don’t be ridiculous, Rae,” Octavia looked up at her sister, thankful that the blonde was protecting her from the teasing, “Some of that would have to go towards living costs and so on. It would probably be closer to three thousand times a year.”

 

“Anyway, tell us, O, what was he like?” Raven pressed, eagerly.

 

The younger girl’s brow furrowed, and she raised her hand to push her sister away, “You danced with him as well.”

 

“Hardly,” Raven pointed disdainfully to her leg, “It was more like rhythmic swaying, thanks to this.”

 

“And he was staring at you the entire time he was dancing with me.” Clarke added, reaching over the brunette to lay her hand on Raven’s leg comfortingly. “I could tell he was polite, but we didn’t talk much.” She grinned when she saw her youngest sister’s cheeks flush darker.

 

Octavia’s hands went to her hair, gently untangling the strands from the braids they had been in throughout the ball, “He’s just as a gentleman _should_ be,” She murmured, lips upturned into a small smile, “Kind, good humoured - and he has such happy manners! He seemed so at ease the whole night, treating us all as his equals.”

 

“And he’s handsome too.” Raven prompted, smirking, “Don’t forget that.”

 

“Yes, he is undeniably handsome.” Clarke smiled, “Handsome _and_ charming; he is truly a gentleman.”

 

“I was surprised when he asked me to dance a second time.”

 

“Were you?” Raven raised an eyebrow, “I wasn’t. He was looking at you all night.”

 

Clarke nodded, “I think he would have danced with you all night if his etiquette did not dictate that he should mingle with others.”

 

“He would have certainly kept dancing with you had the band not left before he could ask a third time.”

 

“But what did you think of the man’s sister?” Clarke asked, leaning over to pull a pin out of Octavia’s hair, and using it to fasten some of her own hair in place. “In my opinion she does not have the manners of Mr Lincoln, but I did not speak with her as you did.”

 

“At first, perhaps not,” Octavia grinned, “But after a short conversation I found her perfectly agreeable. She is to stay with Mr Lincoln at Tondc Park, and I think she will make a good neighbour for us. She told me that she enjoys hiking in the summer, apparently the mountains by Polis House are unequaled anywhere else in the country.”

 

“Hiking?” Raven asked, surprised, “Well, Clarke, perhaps you’ll find a friend in her yet.”

 

Clarke laughed, “It’s a shame the same can’t be said for the gentleman’s friend.”

 

“Ms Woods.” Raven pronounced, slowly, her face scrunched up in distaste, “No, for a woman of high society she seemed to struggle socially.”

 

Octavia sat up, “Yeah, she called our Clarke ‘tolerable’.” She looks at Raven disbelievingly, “ _Tolerable_? The woman clearly has no eyes. Clarke is ten times the woman that Ms Woods is, no matter how fancy or well fitted her suits are.”

 

“It is no matter,” Clarke smiled at her sister’s defense of her, “I would not have liked to dance with her regardless of her opinion of me.”

 

“I would not dance with her if she paid me.” Raven added, frowning. “O, you have to do something about their friendship, I would not want that woman at your wedding.”

 

Octavia opened her mouth to retort, but Clarke cut her off, “Yes, something must be done about her, but your Mr Lincoln is very agreeable, and we have decided to let you like him.” Clarke declared, standing up and moving towards the door.

 

“Yes, you have our blessing.” Raven agreed, nodding decisively as she stood up as well, “You have liked many a stupider person.”

 

“Sweet dreams, O.”

 

Raven grinned, moving to stand by Clarke in the doorway, “We hope you dream of Mr Lincoln all night.”

 

The cushion Octavia threw after them thudded unsatisfactorily against the closed door.

 

//

 

Within a short walk of Ark House lived a family with whom the Griffins were particularly intimate. Sir Thelonious Jaha had previously worked in trade in town, where he had made a somewhat notable fortune and risen to the honour of knighthood. The distinction had given him a disgust to his business as well as to the small market town in which he had lived, and, quitting them both, he had moved with his family to a house about a mile from town, in which he could bask peacefully in the glory of his own importance.

 

His son, Mr Wells Jaha, though proud of his father’s rank, did not allow his father’s arrogance to destroy his manner; on the contrary, he was all attention to every body. He was known by all to be friendly and obliging, and he took care to put the needs of others above his own.

 

The late Mrs Jaha had been a very kind sort of a woman, and her death had been felt strongly by all who had known her. Following the tragedy of her accident, in which her brother had also passed, her niece, Miss Maya, had moved into the Jaha household, and had quickly grown close to the Griffin sisters, thanks to her intelligence and easy manner.

 

“It’s a pity she’s not more attractive.” Mrs Griffin would say, sighing with faux pity.

 

She actually took delight in the idea that her girls were all three more attractive than the young Miss Jaha - indeed she took delight in seeing herself as superior to anyone in any way, but Sir Jaha had a knighthood, so beating him always felt best.

 

The Griffins - with the exception of Mr Griffin, who was once again locked up inside of his study, going over his accounts - all made the journey to the Jaha house the morning after the ball, with the intention of discussing the events of the previous night over tea.

 

“You began the evening well,” Mrs Griffin commented, smiling tightly at Maya, “You were Mr Lincoln’s first choice of partner.”

 

Maya blushed, looking at the floor as she tucked an errant piece of hair behind her ear, “Perhaps, but Mr Lincoln seemed to like his second partner better.”

 

“Oh!” Mrs Griffin’s eyes were wide, as though she had not deliberately steered the conversation in this direction, and was in fact surprised at the insinuation, “You mean Octavia, I suppose - because he danced with her twice. Well, I think-” She coughed, covering her mouth demurely with her hand, “He did appear to _admire_ her.”

 

“I heard Mrs Jackson ask him about the assembly, and of who he thought was the prettiest in the room, to which he responded - did I tell you? - he told her ‘Oh the youngest Miss Griffin, there can be no two minds about it.’ As decisive as can be.”

 

The young Mr Jaha took this moment to speak up, “Yes, he was quite agreeable. It’s a shame that the same can’t be said for his companion.” He paused, looking over at Clarke, “She slighted you, Clarke, and it took all of my patience not to challenge her over it.”

 

“I wish that you wouldn’t upset Clarke so, Wells.” Mrs Griffin said, haltingly.

 

Clarke raised her hand, smiling at her friend, “Don’t worry, Mother, I am not upset.” She chuckles, “Indeed I think it would be worse if she _did_ like me, for then social circumstance would force me to be civil.”

 

“You’re right, Clarke,” Raven laughed, “The greatest misfortune of all would be to be liked by Ms Woods.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its unbetad, but i wanted to post it today before i jet off

Within a week of the ball, the Griffins were invited to dine at Tondc Park. The invitation arrived on horseback early in the week, in a small envelope with ‘ _The Griffin Family_ ’ spelled out across the front in neat cursive, and sealed at the back by an elegant crest pressed into wax.

 

The Griffin girls spent the week preparing themselves for the upcoming dinner; the day after they had received the letter they spent the day in town, arriving with empty bags and heavy purses, and returning late with bags full of bundles of colourful fabric. Much of the remainder of the week was spent in the house, adjusting and improving old dresses under the watchful eye of Mrs Griffin.

 

They were greeted at the door to Tondc Park by two smartly dressed hand servants, who relieved them of their coats, before disappearing down a small corridor to the left. Mrs Griffin, who had been spewing excessive amounts of advice to her children on the journey to the mansion (“And you _must_ make sure to use the outermost set of cutlery _first_ , my dears.” She had told them, enthusiastically, “Or else I am certain they will think us savages.”) was shocked into silence at the grandeur of the house.

 

The entrance hall was immense; along the walls hung paintings, set in ornate frames, depicting men and women who exuded grace and power; the marble staircase stood proudly in front of them, immaculate; an intricate chandelier hung above their heads, the light in the house sparkling in the crystals, throwing stars across the expanse of the ceiling.

 

The sound of a throat clearing drew the Griffin women out of their daze.

 

“Master Lincoln invites you to join him in the drawing room.”

 

Clarke was the quickest to regain her wits, and she smiled gratefully at the butler, “Thank you.” The man nodded succinctly in response, before turning and leading the Griffins out of the hall to meet with the master of the house.

 

The drawing room was as magnificent as the entrance hall had been; one wall was made up of hundreds of books, and Clarke itched to move to it and run her hand over the spines; the floor to ceiling windows opposite the doorway offered a view out over the grounds; the furniture in the room was carved out of dark wood and its upholstery matched the rest of the room seamlessly.

 

Mr Lincoln and Ms Woods stood as the women entered the room, and the former moved to greet them, “I am glad you came,” He smiled, “How do you like the house?”

 

The question had been directed towards Octavia, but Mrs Griffin quickly jumped in, “Oh it’s _wonderful_ ,” She exclaimed, striding into the room, a grin set on her lips, “The decor is exquisite - did you choose it yourself?” She didn’t give the gentleman a chance to answer, “Or perhaps it was your sister. No matter, it’s simply gorgeous. _Oh!_ What a beautiful pianoforte, don’t you think, girls?” She looked over at her daughters, who were all three blushing at their mother’s behaviour, “Grander than ours, certainly. And what an incredible collection of books,” She swept across the room, “Are you a keen reader, Mr Lincoln?

 

Mr Lincoln smiled softly, “Yes, I often-”

 

“I have always found that an admirable quality in men,” Mrs Griffin continues, cutting the gentleman off as though she hadn’t heard him, “My husband is fond of literature, too. I think a person’s opinion on literature and the arts is very telling of their character.” She looks pointedly at Ms Woods.

 

“Yes, of course,” Mr Lincoln smiled, placatingly, his jaw clenched in what Clarke assumed was an attempt to remain patient. Clarke understood the feeling; she often found her mother’s behaviour at home trying in itself, but she had hardly expected her mother would be so uncivil in front of such a gentleman as Mr Lincoln. Indeed, she found the gentleman’s continued calmness admirable.

 

Clarke took her mother’s pause for breath as an opportunity, “It was awfully kind of you to invite us over for tea.”

 

“I was so pleased when you accepted my invitation.” Mr Lincoln smiled at her, “You and your family have been kind to me, and I would like for us to be better acquainted.” He looked over at Octavia, and Clarke noticed the way his eyes softened and his smile seemed to deepen at the sight of her.

 

Clarke smiled; the gentleman had only known her sister for a week and he already seemed enamoured with her.

 

Mr Lincoln encouraged them to take a seat, as tea wouldn’t be ready for a short while, and moments later Clarke found herself perched delicately beside Anya on the settee.

 

“So,” Anya began, after a few moments of silence, “How does one pass the days in this neighbourhood?” Her lips were tilted just barely, Clarke wasn’t sure that she could count it as a smile, but she appreciated the other woman’s attempt at conversation.

 

“Oh,” Clarke paused, swallowing as she considered how best to answer - she didn’t want to present herself a simpleton, “Often I read. Indeed, my father encourages me to do so.”

 

Anya frowned, “For what purpose?”

 

“So that I may learn.” Clarke replied, simply. At the evident confusion on the other woman’s face, she expanded her answer, “Books teach me about other cultures and times and people. For example, I just read a book about India, and - though I doubt I shall ever have the chance to go there - I found it fascinating; they live on the same earth as us, but their ways are so different to ours. Indeed they have to be, for India is a very different place. I admit I am intrigued by the ability of people to adapt, and without books, I wouldn’t have half the knowledge of others as I do now.”

 

Ms Woods chose this moment to speak for the first time since the Griffins had entered the room, “So you believe that reading is beneficial, Miss Griffin?”

 

Clarke glanced at the woman. Ms Woods sat proudly in an armchair by the settee, her posture taut, her back almost perfectly upright. She wore another suit; a dark blue jacket paired with cream trousers, and the lines of it seemed to refuse to wrinkle, despite the woman’s seated position. Her hair was once again pulled behind her shoulders by braids not dissimilar to the ones she had sported at the ball the previous week.

 

“More than beneficial,” Clarke leaned forwards on the settee, “Indeed I believe that all people should read broadly, that they might learn more about people other than themselves.”

 

“Would it not be more wise for them to first learn about their own people?”

 

Clarke paused to consider the question, “I think that it is only through learning about other cultures that we can truly examine ourselves and find our own shortcomings.”

 

“And what of our merits? Should we not learn those?” Ms Woods furrowed her brows, breaking her immaculate posture as she leaned towards the blonde woman.

 

“Certainly,” Clarke allowed, a small smile on her lips, “But we do not need to change our merits, so surely it is more important that we find our faults. Examining other cultures is the best way to do so, and in _this_ I find books are the most pleasurable source of knowledge.”

 

The conversation was then interrupted when Mr Lincoln announced that dinner was ready, and then ushered the party from the drawing room to the dining room.

 

By some unspoken agreement, neither Ms Woods nor Clarke brought up the conversation they had shared in the drawing room, and as the Griffins left almost immediately after dinner, the pair found no other chance to continue the debate for the rest of the evening.

 

“What lovely young women.” Mr Lincoln had exclaimed, once the Griffins had left. Anya, who was sitting at the pianoforte, hummed noncommittally before playing a soft melody on the lower notes of the instrument. He looked over at Ms Woods, who stood by the fireplace, “Don’t you think so?”

 

Ms Woods frowned, “The oldest Miss Griffin was agreeable,” She replied, “But the mother’s presence grated on me.”

 

“Agreeable?” Anya paused in her playing, and then smirked at the woman by the fireplace, “Was it not only last week you called her ‘barely tolerable’?”

 

Ms Woods did not respond.

 

“Regardless of dear Lexa’s fickle fancy,” Mr Lincoln smiled, “I should like to become better acquainted with Miss Octavia Griffin.” He looked over at Ms Woods, “What do you think of her?”

 

“I admit I do not know her well enough to pass judgement.”

 

At length, Mr Lincoln decided that he would invite the youngest Miss Griffin to dinner the following week, and Anya, with a smile thrown in the direction of Ms Woods, suggested that he invite the oldest Griffin daughter as well, and in the end it was agreed that an invitation to dinner should be extended to all three of the young Miss Griffins.

 

It was also decided amongst the residents of Tondc Park that Mrs Griffin had an intolerable, overbearing sort of presence, and they agreed that it would be best to limit their interactions with her.

 

**//**

 

Raven and Clarke were curled up next to each other on the blondes bed as they discussed Octavia’s budding romance with Mr Lincoln. It was generally evident whenever they met that the gentleman _did_ admire her, and to _Clarke_ , it was equally obvious that Octavia shared in this attraction, but she did not believe that Octavia’s feelings would be known to the general public, as she shielded herself from the suspicions of others with smiles and an easy manner, and Clarke prided herself on the fact that she was one of the few able to easily understand the hidden feelings of her sister. She mentioned this to Raven.

 

“Perhaps it is pleasant for you to have such an advantage over others,” Raven replied, “But it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so guarded. If O hides her feelings from everyone - including Mr Lincoln - then she may lose the opportunity of fixing him. Loving is as much about vanity as it is selflessness - an initial attraction is natural enough, but few of us have the heart to love without encouragement. We both know that Lincoln undoubtedly has feelings for O, but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on.”

 

“But she does help him on.” Clarke responded, frowning, “If even Wells can notice her regard for Lincoln, then he must be a simpleton not to.”

 

“Remember, Clarke, the man does not know Octavia as we do.”

 

“How can he? They have hardly known each other a fortnight. She danced four times with him at the ball, and they have dined in the company of one another but three times. You cannot think this enough time for her to discern his character.”

 

Raven smiled, “Had she merely _dined_ with him then I would agree with you, but you forget that she has spent three evenings with him as well, and three evenings may do a great deal.”

 

“But they do not spend their evenings alone together,” Clarke frowned, “They always see each other in large parties.”

 

“And therefore O should make the most of every half hour in which she can command his attention.” The darker haired girl replied, definitively. She leaned back against the headboard, “When she is secure of him, there will be all the time in the word for her to fall in love.”

 

“Your plan is a good one,” Clarke paused, “At least, when the only thing in question is the desire of being well married; and if I were determined to marry rich, I dare say I would adopt it. But these are not Octavia’s feelings, and she does not wish to marry purely for money.”

 

“Clarke,” Raven sighed, picking at the bottom of her shirt, “Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. I think she would have as good a chance of happiness if she were to marry him tomorrow, as if she were to study his character for a twelvemonth. Knowing the disposition of your partner in advance does not increase the chance of happiness; marriage is unlike anything else in its ability to bolster dislike. I think it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life, then at least you may have a short period of happiness before you discover your partner's faults.”

 

“It saddens me that you would think so little of marriage, Rae.”

 

“You forget that my parents were not like yours.”

 

“My parents _are_ yours, if you would have them.” Clarke reached over and took Raven’s hand, “You are as much a sister to me as O is, and I know that you deserve happiness as much as any of us. More so, perhaps.”

 

Raven clenched her jaw, staring down at their joined hands.

 

“Who would want to find happiness with me?” The question is so quiet, barely whispered, that if the room were not so silent, if Clarke were not so close to her, she may not have heard it.

 

“Who wouldn’t?” Clarke pressed, “You’re beautiful, inside _and_ out. You’re kind, thoughtful, intelligent. Anyone would be blessed to call you their wife.”

 

There were tears in Raven’s eyes, “I’m the daughter of the man who burnt down a third of your father’s estate-”

 

“And it grew back!” Clarke exclaimed, a hand reaching up to cradle Raven’s cheek, brushing away at the tears that escaped, “And you grew with us. That man is gone, and he will never hurt you - or anyone else - ever again. You’re family to me, Rae, and to rest of the world you’re a _Griffin_. If you look you will find happiness, and if anyone tries to hurt you, they will have to answer to me, okay?”

 

Clarke’s eyes were wet as she smiled at her sister, and she pulled the other girl into a tight hug.

 

As Raven pressed her face into Clarke’s shoulder, her tears falling freely into the fabric of the blonde’s dress, she wondered, again, how on earth she ever got so lucky to be able to call Clarke her sister.

 

//

 

Clarke was so occupied in observing Mr Lincoln’s attentions to her sister, that she didn’t notice that she herself was becoming an object of some interest to his friend. Ms Woods had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; at the ball, she looked at Clarke without any admiration for her looks or character, dismissing the blonde out of hand as a simple country girl who was so beneath her that she hardly deserved to be thought about; and when they met next, she looked at Clarke only to criticise.

 

No sooner had she decided that the eldest Miss Griffin had hardly a good feature in her face, than she began to find it rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression in the soft blue of her eyes.

 

This discovery was succeeded by others, all of which were equally as mortifying to the young Ms Woods. Although her critical eye had detected more than one failure of perfect symmetry in the blonde’s form, she was now forced to acknowledge that Clarke’s figure was light and pleasing; in spite of her earlier assertion that Clarke’s manners were not of the fashionable world, she found herself fascinated by the woman’s easy playfulness.

 

Of this change in attitude, Clarke was blissfully unaware - to her, Ms Woods was simply a woman who had made herself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought Clarke handsome enough to dance with.

 

Ms Woods began to want to know more of Clarke, and so, as a step towards engaging in conversation with the blonde herself, she decided to attend the woman’s conversations with others. Her doing so was what caught Clarke’s attention.

 

“What does Ms Woods mean,” She began, speaking softly to Mr Wells Jaha in one of the few moments she found herself outside of Ms Woods’ hearing range, “By listening to my conversation with the Colonel?”

 

“That is a question which only Ms Woods can answer, I’m afraid.”

 

“If she does it any more I shall be forced to call her out on it.” She huffed, smoothing out her skirt with both hands, “She has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by acting impertinently, she will believe me afraid of her presence, and I will not allow her that pleasure.”

 

When the woman in question approached them soon afterwards, despite not appearing to have any intention of speaking, the young Mr Jaha raised his eyebrow at the blonde, defying her to make any comment on the matter, which immediately provoked Clarke to do so;

 

“Did you not think, Ms Woods, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Kane to give us a ball in town?”

 

“With great energy.” Ms Woods nodded, “Though it is a subject that often makes a lady energetic.”

 

Wells chuckled politely, “Perhaps you are too severe on your own gender.” He paused, than rested his hand on the small of Clarke’s back and she turned to look at him, “Regardless, it will be _her_ turn soon to be teased; I am going to open the instrument, Clarke, and you know what that means.” He grinned, and the blonde blushed.

 

“You are a strange excuse for a friend, always wanting me to play and sing in front of anybody and everybody.” The darker skinned gentleman laughed, “Were I impressed by my own musical talent, you would be invaluable, but as it is, I would really rather not perform in front of those who must be accustomed to the best.” But Wells did not back down, and, at length, Clarke relented. “Very well, if it must be so, it must.”

 

Clarke did not notice the way Ms Woods’ eyes narrowed when Wells placed his hand against her back, nor did the blonde spot the way the other woman’s jaw clenched at the familiar teasing between the two.

 

Clarke’s performance was pleasing, though by no means perfect. Wells stood by her at the pianoforte whilst she played, turning the pages of the music for her, and Ms Woods stood across the room, watching the lack of distance between the two with distaste.

 

After a song or two, and before she could reply to the few people asking her to sing again, she was succeeded by Maya Jaha, who, having worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments in her efforts to prove herself to her ever apathetic uncle, was always impatient to display.

 

Maya, despite her efforts, had neither genius nor taste, and her vanity in her own talents gave her a pedantic and conceited manner, which would have polluted the performances of people far more talented than her. Clarke, with her easy and unaffected character, had been listened to with much more pleasure, though she did not play half so well.

 

After a long concerto, which was applauded politely by all in the room, an upbeat song was played, and the floor was cleared to make room for a dance.

 

Ms Woods stood silently in a corner of the room, irritated at her friend Mr Lincoln, who had convinced her to attend the social gathering at Jaha House. She was much too absorbed in her own thoughts of the many better way she could have spent her evening to realise that Sir Thelonius Jaha had moved to stand next to her, until he began to speak.

 

“What a charming amusement for young people this is.” He grinned at the woman, who returned the smile stiffly, “There is nothing like dancing, after all. I consider it to be one of the finest refinements of polished society.”

 

Ms Woods nodded, “Certainly, Sir. It also has the advantage of being accessible in the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.”

 

“Ah, yes. Quite right.” He smiled uncomfortably, “Your friend performs delightfully,” He continued after a pause, upon noticing Mr Lincoln’s presence in the group of dancers, “And I have no doubts that you are adept in the science yourself, Ms Woods.”

 

The words, though not phrased as a question, were leading, and Ms Woods nodded again, succinctly, “You saw me dance at the ball in town, I believe, Sir.”

 

“Yes, indeed.” There was another pause, “Do you often dance?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

“Do you not consider it a proper compliment to the venue?”

 

“It is a compliment I never pay to any place if I can avoid it.”

 

Sir Jaha nodded slowly, and turned back to look at the collection of people dancing in front of them; at that moment, he noticed the eldest Miss Griffin making her way towards them, and was struck with the notion of doing a very gallant thing.

 

“My dear Clarke,” He called out, gesturing for her to come over to the pair, “Why are you not dancing? Ms Woods, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse a dance, I am sure, when such a beauty is before you.”

 

And with that, he took the blonde’s hand, intending to give it to Ms Woods, who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it. Before this could happen, however, Clarke drew her hand back, and said to Sir Thelonius, “I apologise, Sir, but I have not the least intention of dancing. I did not move this way in order to beg for a partner.”

 

Ms Woods calmly requested to be allowed the honour of her hand, but this was in vain. Clarke was determined to stand by her decision to never dance with her, and neither the woman in question’s soft request nor Sir Jaha’s attempt at gentle persuasion would be able to change her mind.

 

“You excel so much at dance, dear Clarke, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this lady dislikes the amusement in general,” He paused to glance back at Ms Woods, before turning to face the blonde again, “I am sure she can have no objection to obliging us for a mere half hour.”

 

Clarke looked at Ms Woods, and was momentarily startled by the softness in her eyes. Her dark eyebrows were furrowed gentle green, and Clarke’s throat suddenly felt dry. She coughed, gently, than smiled at Sir Jaha, “Ms Woods is all politeness.”

 

“She is indeed,” He grinned happily at them, “But considering the inducement, we need not wonder at her complaisance; for who would object such a partner?”

 

Clarke looked archly at Ms Woods, then turned away. She caught Wells eye from across the room, and widened her eyes at him. He nodded sharply and politely pushed his way through the crowd to where the three of them were standing.

 

“Clarke!” Wells exclaimed upon arriving, “I’ve been looking for you.”

 

The blonde looked back at Ms Woods and Sir Jaha, “You’ll have to excuse me.” She smiled politely, then turned away again, grasping hold of Wells’ arm as they made their way through the crowd. Clarke shivered as she felt Ms Woods’ intense gaze bore into her back, but she refused to acknowledge it, instead tugging at her friend's arm, so as to speed up their escape.

 

Ms Woods stared after her retreating form, brow furrowed. Clarke’s resistance had not injured the darker haired woman’s admiration for her, and she was thinking of the blonde with some contentment, when her thoughts were again interrupted, this time by Anya.

 

“I wager I can guess the subject of your reverie.”

 

Ms Woods smirked, “I should imagine not.”

 

Anya hummed thoughtfully, “You are thinking how dreadful it would be to pass many evenings in this manner, and for once I would myself in agreement with you; I was never more annoyed!” She paused, glancing at the other woman for support, but received nothing but silence, “The noise they make; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people! What I wouldn’t give to be free from society's expectation that I should mingle with these lesser folk.”

 

“Indeed you have read me wrong.” Ms Woods replied, “My mind was much more agreeably engaged.” At Anya’s raised eyebrow, she continued, “I have been considering the great pleasure a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.” Anya narrowed her eyes, immediately demanding that Ms Woods tell her what lady she had been thinking of. The woman replied unflinchingly, “Miss Clarke Griffin.”

 

“Miss Clarke Griffin!” Anya repeated, smirking, “How has your opinion of her grown so much in so little time? Pray, when am I to wish you joy?”

 

“Your imagination is rapid.” Ms Woods replied, “It jumps from admiration to love, and from love to matrimony, in a moment.”

 

“If you are serious in your ‘admiration’, I shall consider it settled.” Anya decided, crossing her arms and chuckling, “You will have a charming mother-in-law, and of course she will desire to live at Polis with you and your wife-to-be.”

 

Ms Woods listened to her friend with perfect indifference, tuning out of Anya’s witty remarks at the expense of Mrs Griffin as her mind once again drifted to thoughts of Miss Clarke Griffin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so theres another chapter, hope u enjoyed it :)
> 
> I'm going on holiday tomorrow and after that ill be straight back into schoolwork, so the next update will probs take longer, but I'm gonna try not to abandon this fic, cos its super fun to write. 
> 
> anyway, lexas got a crush and clarke is a petty hoe, all is good, yeah?
> 
> till next time, toodles <3

**Author's Note:**

> anyway so I'm loving the Mr/Mrs Griffin dynamic, its super fun to write
> 
> also just to clear things up, Raven is not *technically* related to the griffins, her backstory will be explained a bit more solidly later on. And maya is Jahas wife's brothers daughter.
> 
> pls let me know what u thought and stuff. feel free to hmu on my tumblr (indragram)
> 
> <3


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